Arboreal Archives
by Yincira
Summary: As Rue and Mytho try to turn their imperfect happy ending into a pure one, they inadvertently start another story that draws in Fakir, Ahiru and Autor. The Wolf wants a piece too, and so do the other oaks. Sequel. FxA, MxR-A.
1. Spoiled Happily Ever After

**· · · · · · ·**

**· Chapter I · Das Verderbtes Lang Und Glücklich ·**

**· · · · · · ·**

_Once upon a time, there was a heroic prince who returned to his kingdom after having defeated the monster raven that had plagued it. At his hand was the fair princess he had won. Yet not all was as pure as it should be. This was not merely in that the princes still carried the Raven's curse or that his princess had been the witch who had cursed him, no, it was something far more troubling, far more untouchable. For what becomes of a fairytale realm that has no proud king nor any kindly enchantress to place it in a spell of long sleep till the day the heir returns?_

**· · · · · · ·**

"Our Prince has returned! He shall take the throne and all will be well now!"

When Siegfried and Rue had sailed towards the story kingdom, they had passed over dirty streets and empty farms. Joyless crowds and vile stenches surrounded the still luminous castle, resembling more of the harsh reality of medieval cities than that of a happy fairytale .... or maybe, it was the reality of the darker fairytales. They had heard pleas and hopes rise from it until the entire city cheered, but no miracle was in their wake to alter this fate this time. This was four years ago and the people still hoped for that miracle.

Seated at the head of a long wooden table, Siegfried was amidst the ministers that had been chosen to rule the country in his absence. All strangers to him, chosen from the people of the lands and even after these four years, they still were strangers. The people demanded it, the laws dictated it, he had all right and obligation to be prince and sooner or later, king. So the acknowledged him, even if they kept themselves as no more than the tolerating, grim faces at this table.

"You are just an ignorant boy."

This they seemed to say every time they addressed him, no matter how respectful and courteous they were. Had they actually spoken those words he would have taken no offense, for it was the truth. What did either he or Rue knows of politics and economics? Such things were not supposed to exist once a land had achieved Happily Ever After.

Siegfried had wandered Gold Crown Town alone and in rags, Rue had grown up in a desolate landscape with only her cold father and rows of white, illuminated feathers. They knew well what it was to live with only the barest of necessities. Yet experience in suffering does in no way provide one with the answer to how one escapes it. While the neighbor kingdoms remained either of ideal beauty or dark haunts still waiting for it, Siegfried's kingdom had become a hybrid with reality and all which it brought : political conflict, hunger, failed trade agreements, rebellions, all around misery. Two hundred years had passed like this and no signs of an end were about. He had to make a decision.

Siegfried rose and requested silence.

"I have decided to approach the other kingdoms for help."

"Your Majesty, they want nothing to do with us." one of the ministers said resentfully. "They are afraid our 'taint' will spread to them. You know this!"

"I understand their fear. However, we have no yet made an official request for help, we only know their opinion. At the very least we should try." he said resolutely.

His words had little impact beyond rousing the all too familiar murmuring amongst the ministers. Yet the prince did not relent. Giving them a few moments to argue further, he then continued :

"Is it so uncommon for royalty to head out and seek to find the cure for the curse upon their land? I will do exactly that, I will undertake a journey to find the knowledge and the material we need to bring back our land to happiness."

"This is no curse that light can lift." another minister argued. "Restoring this land requires careful planning and long therm structures!"

Siegfried nodded. "Indeed it is nothing. But this story must find its true completion and sitting still cannot lead to that. Furthermore, some problems _can_ be solved by magic. I will search for such an answer too."

Their skeptic gazes betrayed their distrust of 'stories' controlling their lives. Perhaps some would gladly discard the power of the story altogether just to have their own fate in their hands. Those who accepted awaits happiness, those who defy fate, glory. Which was more important?

He could not even tell which was to accept fate in this case. Sit still and wait everything out might be, but being his true self as the compassionate Prince could be. So he did the only he knew to do : to be that Prince and to live in a story.

"You have fared well for all the time of my absence. I am certain you will continue doing your best to uphold what little can be upheld in our realm. But I cannot sit by any longer and idly watch as my people suffer, I must take whatever step I can undertake to help them, even if my road is uncertain. I have seen now that me simply staying here will do no such good. Indeed, I am but an ignorant boy on this terrain, but I am also the Prince of this story."

**· · · · · · ·**

The reflection in the triple mirror again was not hers, yet she knew exactly what it was. As Kraehe she had hated herself, the ugly human-formed crow ..... she had never really looked into the mirror. How ironic that this was the form she always saw gazing back in her darkest hours. The witch clad in simple black contrasted sharply to the rich ornate white she usually wore.

Maybe she should have the mirrors replaced again. Mirrors were strange things in the realm of stories, they were prone to grow a will of their own when given something interesting to reflect. These illusions would cease for a while once the mirror was renewed, until the new mirror started to become interested. Sometimes raven eyes would peek over Kraehe's head and now, black wings folded open from behind her back. Whatever appeared to her was always varied yet endlessly the same thing.

She took the crown off her head, the reflection reached up as well only to lift nothingness of her head. Only when Rue held the crown before her did it appear as a reflection in the mirror, Kraehe longingly looked down on it.

A sudden rustle sounded behind her. Startled, Rue looked over her shoulder. She gasped and dropped the crown onto the cabinet.

For a second she had been certain to have seen black feathers shimmer out of existence. The pounding of her heart increased. Quickly she looked ahead again. Kraehe's expression showed the very same fear as her own did.

A frown dropped over Rue's brow. Kraehe should not look this much like her. She raised her arms and folded the two side mirrors across the primary one and decided to forget about everything she had seen.

Rue then sought out a simple ballet uniform, but never put it on. It remained thrown on her bed, looking less inviting than it should be. In fact, it seemed to taunt her with its simplicity. The lie she had once lived as truth wouldn't return. But she would not exchange the present for that time gone by, when Mytho had possessed no heart, even if it would mean her eyes would no longer be the wine red they were now.

Tired soon of memories that always recalled themselves, she opened the glass door to the balcony and stepped into the night. Only many lights betrayed the life below, if one didn't know better it was a fine, normal city. The darkness hid the suffering country from her sight, but she knew it to be there.

A soft, sorrowful hum started on her lips, a wordless attempt at song. It somehow gave her the soothing feeling that dance lately did not grant her. It was in this state that her prince found her.

"Rue?"

His gentle voice forced away some of the gloom over her mind. As Mytho approached he noticed the uniform on the bed. A strange uncertainty crept onto him as he held out his hand to her.

Yet him she did not deny. Gracefully Rue placed her hand into his, letting him lead her into dance. The balcony was spacious enough to give them the room they needed to and though their royal clothing was not the best to dance in, they soon were lost in the art of motion. What uncertainties words would not speak, dance could express immediately.

"Prince, what is on your mind?" Rue asked.

"Princess, ..... I intend to make a journey." he said after a moment's hesitation.

She let go of his hand and danced opposite of him, she wanted to see his face clearer. Mirror to her, he danced solitary when he continued : "I need to find a cure for our kingdom, somehow. I cannot stay useless."

His dance was graceful, yet at the same time tired. Rue realized that perhaps this reflected her own dance as well.

Once more he reached his hand to her, the question clear : "Will you come with me?"

Did he even need to ask? Rue had become accustomed to not being threatened the entire time and the idea of another story was not appealing. But the very idea of saying "no" was so far from her mind it did not even get a hint of consideration. Mytho wanted to bring happiness to his people, he had to. This is what she had fallen in love with long ago, this compassion that was so deep in him that not even the loss of his heart would erase it. Rue often felt she was a stain on him, for she knew her own compassion was not nearly as boundless as that of his. Oh, love could be such a selfish thing, here she worried for what she was to Mytho when down below far greater pain was upon his people.

She whirled closer to him till his arms were around her.

"Winter will come soon." she said as she looked up at the pale moon. The sky was mournful, she never quite understood how stars and moon could express it, but it was like dance; she had learned to read them as reflections of the world. They would have to head out soon, for this would be a harsh winter.

Yet now they stood still, at the very point where their dance should have expressed vibrancy and willpower to mark the start of an epic journey.

"_Rue, why do you only dance anymore when I ask you to?_"

For a moment she could not tell whether he had actually spoken or whether it had been a line in a story. Perhaps like the mirrors and the sky, the wind whispered Mytho's fears. Such things the fairytale creatures were oblivious to, yet to someone of her mortal heritage it wasn't difficult to hear what she and the story already knew. This had always been her talent, even to the surprise of Drosselmeyer.

Now she thought of that .....

**· · · · · · ·**

"Dammit."

Fakir had been writing down a wholly unrelated story, that of the child of Rätsel as she and her husband had come to visit Gold Crown Town. Quite a harmless little tale of the boy discovering some of the magic that still remained here. Ahiru had found her way into it as well, being the child's guide out of the forest near the lake.

It was at that point that something else had forced its way out of his hand.

_Fakir, if you are behind this, I hope for you it was an accident ...... and if you aren't, you better make yourself useful. Understood?_

Fakir did not make a habit of using his story powers to check in on how Mytho and Rue were doing, fearful that he might initiate another story, though for different reasons than he guessed Rue feared it. He had tried writing some poems however, just to be safe (and because Autor kept pressing him to figure out how the couple was doing, almost as if he was hoping things would go wrong between them .... it made Fakir uneasy, maybe Autor had inherited Drosselmeyer's penchant for tragedy?). So, Fakir knew what state the kingdom was in, but still, he had no way of telling how much of what he wrote of improvement was actually happening and how much merely a reflection of what he wanted to find.

Yet this, this was very distinctly Rue and something was up. After some contemplation, he had finally set pen to paper and started writing. In vain, very in vain. Nothing worked, he could not catch onto a story .... maybe Rue was just venting? This was a comforting thought, yet one quickly erased once he had heard the front door opening. Charon had let in Ahiru, who had just returned from her role in Fakir's little story.

Quite upset and dirty, he guessed what had happened : the moment he had stopped guiding the story, she had gotten lost along with the child. When his half-smiled "sorry" made her alert that something more urgent than a straying mind was the matter, she had stopped her angry quacking and had fluttered up to the desk. Not quite making it, still young as she was, he had caught her and set her down aside of the paper. While unable to speak, reading she still could do.

Large blue eyes then locked into his, riddled with concern.

"It's Rue." he had muttered. "The rest is nothing."

Ahiru had responded by taking a quill with her beak, throwing over a pot of ink in the process and forcing it into his hand. Her very expression forced him to write. It was no flowing story, more like notes one made in preparation for a scene, but here he could feel a story under his fingers. It was not one of his own.

Now he set down the quill and reread what had flown from his hand.

"Dammit." he muttered again.

"Quack!"

He laid down the papers and turned them towards Ahiru. She looked up quizzically, she was unaware of the thoughts that had accompanied Fakir as he wrote.

"That idiot is about to start another story! If only he had patience, then I could .... " Fakir gritted his teeth together.

Ahiru tilted her head to the side. She understood that much, it was rather Fakir's worry that confused her. It seemed logical enough to her that Mytho and Rue would set out for the sake of their kingdom, why didn't Fakir want it? Sadly she beheld the boy as he leaned onto the desk, one hand against his forehead. As Princess Tutu, she could speak to people to make them realize their true feelings, but as a duck, she could only watch.

Fakir suddenly dropped his hand and reached for the quill again, intent on finding out more. Occupied as such, he didn't notice Rätsel until she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Who is this girl?" The woman's hand brushed over a paper with scribbles that represented Rue's reflections.

Fakir looked up, seeing her with her dirtied but grinning child on her arm. She didn't seem angry or anything, though if the child had told her about Ahiru's presence she should have guessed what Fakir had been up to. He didn't want her to think he had been experimenting with her, but she didn't even seem interested in bringing it up. She just pulled her hand back and waited for an answer, her eyes curious, testing but not unkind.

"Rue .... Mytho's princess."

Rätsel set her boy down, then she leaned with her arms on the table so that she was at face level with both duck and boy.

"She seems to be troubled by something within herself. Are you writing a story for her?"

"I don't want to start another story for them .... they deserve their happily ever after." he said sharply. Rätsel only smiled knowingly.

"It seems to me that they themselves would wish for a new story to be born." she said as she pulled closer another paper, which told of Mytho's contemplations.

"They could just wait, it would all settle down eventually. Starting a new story could bring far more trouble than waiting it out." Fakir objected gruffly.

"Stagnant problems do not resolve themselves. I think they both seek for something they can't find without a story." Rätsel said. "Perhaps it is _just you_ who is afraid of another story?"

Ahiru quacked loudly. While Rätsel could not understand her, she guessed as much as it meant. Fakir noticed them banding together against him and he retorted :

"Look, this is a story that Drosselmeyer started, his last sick joke! He meant for Mytho's kingdom to fall to ashes, to suffer long before extinguishing to complete the tragedy he wanted to write. I cannot guarantee a happy ending if it is something he started! What if the old man gets involved again?"

"Do they know this?"

"What?"

"Do Mytho and Rue know this is part of Drosselmeyer's writing? Or rather, do _you_ know for sure?"

He did not. Suddenly angry, Fakir grabbed the papers and stowed them in a folder. Rätsel still smiled when she straightened up, noticing her child was getting tired and should be brought to bed.

As she left, she said : "Fakir, Ahiru, will you have dinner with us tomorrow? I've already invited Charon. I'm not sure whether they'll allow Ahiru to enter, but we can sit outside. It should still be warm enough for that."

"Quack!"

Fakir agreed to come, but his heart wasn't quite in it. Now that Mytho had started another story, he knew his obligation to get involved, but still, he wished it had not been necessary. He could hardly manage the simple stories of this little town and having to yet again watch on helplessly as he could do little to nothing ....

Ahiru walked over to Fakir and leaned her little head against his shoulder, silently offering comfort. Black inked footprints were in her wake, smudging the papers of his writing. He could not help but smile. Sometimes it was more like she was staying for him, rather than him staying for her.

**· · · · · · · **


	2. They Both Need Honesty

**· · · · · · · **

**· Chapter II · Geschichten Und Liebe Brauchen Beide Die Ehrlichkeit ·**

**· · · · · · · **

_Once upon a time, a peasant girl was wed to a white bear, who would make her family rich in return for her hand. Her mother told her to find out who was the husband that came into her bed at night and she did so, finding him a handsome prince. But this cursed her husband to marry the daughter of his troll stepmother and he had to leave her. So the girl went onto a journey to rescue her husband. But, did she do so out of love or was it merely the same sense of duty that had prompted her to marry a stranger?_

**· · · · · · · **

Past and future were relative matters in the stagnated existence of Happily Ever After. Rue had often wondered about this : the rulers of the other kingdoms remembered being born and growing up, yet they themselves often just did not reach the point where they had children, grew old and died. Many appeared about twenty years old, some more worn than others, but still ageless as the stories they lived in. Or was this only her point of view? And what would happen if a story they lived in was forgotten?

Her musings were broken before she came to an ever more troubling question. They arrived in the first kingdom they meant to visit, far beyond the borders of their own realm and past a wild, dangerous forest. One of many. Wild dangerous forests were a decorative must to contrast with the welfare of the blessed kingdoms, Rue suspected they were secretly attended to.

This kingdom belonged to a prince whose father had married a disguised troll and had been cursed by her, but his curse had ultimately been broken by the peasant girl he had married and she had traveled to impossible locations to get him back. Hm, perhaps if she were to point out blatantly enough how illogical it was to assign a West and an East to Moon and Sun, would the story crumble on its foundation?

Mytho held out his hand as they left their swan carriage, she gracefully accepted. But her attention was elsewhere, for she looked upon a high white castle of splendid marble. She sighed in disappointment, yet another Ivory Tower. Everything about them was perfect and lacked raw beauty.

Though ... her prince was perfect too. At least, he seemed to be again.

The court awaited them, having been alerted by a dove from Mytho's palace. The royal pair was given a elegant and rich welcome, which Mytho accepted with a warm smile. His hopes were up, but those of Rue were crumbling quickly.

Mytho saw through the eyes of a fairytale prince, but Rue saw through both the eyes of a human and as much as she did not want to, the eyes of a witch as well. There was a certain chill over this court, a cold refrain that drummed through the walls and echoed on every face. An ill temptation to break this monotone charade came upon her, it was fueled by her disgust.

They met a royal pair who approached them with open arms and strict protocol. Rue scrutinized them and her curiosity soon caused a crack in the perfection of the king, for she met contempt in his eyes. Mytho seemed oblivious and gladly spoke of polite nothings as they were served tea and sandwiches, a refresher from a journey that hardly had been a strain.

Rue's attempts to engage into a livelier conversation with the queen fell flat, finding her passive-reactive at most and seemingly disinterested in anything. Hobbies she did not have, let alone did she know of the arts that Rue pursued. She gave up soon and let her eyes wander across the room, spying for something, _anything_ of interest. Nothing. The castle was cold and lifeless, not like the beautifully ferocious winter but simply uninspired.

The same could be said for the gardens through which they were led shortly later. A carving of neatness that obliged to every form of 'perfection' and had no variation. Boredom must be evident on her, but Rue did not care to conceal it.

The most vivid she found were the confused, disdainful eyes of the king who had been a bear. Perhaps he thought curiosity and interest were not suitable for a princess. Judging from his stoic court, he likely valued obedience and order.

Even Mytho became a little irritated about traditions like walking around the fountain thrice while engaging in pointless compliments about architecture. Furthermore, the king was convinced his court protocol could not be understood easy, so advanced it was.

"The purpose of this is -" and so he fell into another painfully detailed description of a custom, while a servant with a golden plate with rose petals patiently waited. Rue started to notice the king was addressing her, not Mytho, who already understood all customs.

Oh, right, Rue had been the witch. She must have been a vile, wretched monster who had only ever attended barbaric feasts. Very well. Rue took pride in her quick understanding of court protocol, so she let him speak halfway, just long enough to seem like time had been wasted. Then she interrupted :

"I appreciate your explanation, but I am well aware what its purpose is. These rose petals are a tribute to the winds that helped the queen to find you. Whenever a guest arrives after a long journey, it is a custom of thanks for safe travel."

Surprised, he stared and then cast a glance at his queen, a little scornful. The poor woman must have taken a much longer time adapting to castle life, never even having been schooled. How painful that must be for the king, the witch learned better than his wife.

"Indeed. It is." He signaled the servant with the golden plate to step forward. Mytho and Rue took a modest hand full of petals, folded them between their hands and softly blew in. Then they held them open once more, allowing a sentient wind to take the petals away.

"Now, shall we get to business?" Rue asked.

"We shall." the king said in a monotone.

He directed the couple to a nearby gazebo with a table and four chairs in its middle. Here the royal couples seated themselves and promptly a few servants appeared to serve more tea and biscuits. They waited until they were alone again, then Mytho started solemnly :

"We would like to request a political allegiance."

The king and queen blinked like frogs.

"My apologies, but I am afraid I do not understand what you mean."

"We need to establish trade routes outside of our own kingdom. We need to expand our market, so that there will be work for the jobless and we need knowledgeable doctors to cure the ill. The roads need to be restored and the cities rebuilt, and we need more soldiers to ward off bandits. " Rue added.

As they spoke, the perfect king and queen started to look notably less perfect in composition, nervousness takings its toll. At the very same time, the flowers of the garden hung their heads a little, and the sun's shine on the walls was even more dull.

"We simply need some support in the form of finances and food, and perhaps some skilled guards who can instruct others in self defense." Mytho offered as a simpler option, sadly seeing their reluctance.

"Oh, and there will likely be some refugees from the depleted areas."

"Refugees?" The king shifted on his chair. "What would we do with them?"

"Feed and provide them with work, until they can return." Rue spelled out. "Your country prospers, it surely can handle a few small towns crossing the border?"

The queen laughed nervously and muttered : "We know nothing about how to do that. Our country is healthy just cause everyone keeps the rules and —"

"Are you implying that because they are starved and poor, they will not hold the laws? Fine, no refugees then. But at the very least you could spare some food?"

"Rue!" Mytho said, but she only looked away, miffed.

"My apologies." Mytho said. "My princess is very upset to see our people suffer, it makes her anxious."

The queen muttered something more about how peasants just didn't understand the laws, but stopped once her husband set his hand on hers.

"Certainly." the king then told Mytho with a slow, deliberate voice. "Who would not be torn at the heart from the suffering of their people? However, we gain nothing from taking such an allegiance while putting our kingdom at risk. You may very well suffer from an evil curse, if not caused — and do forgive me for implying this — tainted rulership."

Mytho' eyes grew wide, but he clenched his teeth together.

"I understand."

Rue however did not swallow this. She stood up and coldly said :"You know perfectly well there is no curse on our country, but if you must see monsters where they are not, then you'll have to excuse me if I starts seeing them here. May your monotony last forever, King _Bear_."

With that, she walked off.

"Rue! You can't!" Mytho called after her.

"I am merely a filthy witch and our people are uncivilized monsters, my dear prince. I _certainly _can."

Then she was out of the court yard, leaving behind a shamed prince.

"I am sure your happy ending will come to you. It always does." said the queen with a faithless spark.

That was it. An elaborate reception and many formalities to simply be told to _get lost_.

When Mytho held out his hand to help her into the carriage, she only briefly brushed her hand across his. Gathering her elaborate gown around her, she sat down. Mytho sighed and sat at his spot aside of her. Their silence remain only for as long as it took to get out of earshot. Then Rue broke loose.

"Well, that was just wonderful! What can you expect from a man who bought a girl he didn't know in order to lift a curse on himself?"

"He only has a healthy fear for bringing ruin to his kingdom. Dearest Rue, you cannot judge people like that."

"A healthy fear?" she snapped. "He apparently can make money out of air, he's just afraid _reality_ might nibble at his magic. He doesn't even try! That is what really is going on, he knows his so called Happily Ever After is on the brink of crumbling yet he won't face it like we do! This is no real happy ending! And _she _only agreed to the bargain cause her parents talked her into it? Despite him keeping his word, a few words of fear that he might be a troll caused her to test him. She didn't start to care until after she saw ..... "

The rant was out before Rue caught herself. Hadn't she herself fallen for someone she didn't know? Someone who she only know from his form?

Ever so slightly, a frown dropped on the prince's face. He let Rue speak, but did not look at her, nor did he reply.

His _real _princess had never been meant for him, merely a shadow in a distant past inside the storybook, only for a duck to briefly reprise it. The duck who in reality belonged with the knight, and the knight belonged with her.

Rue knew why she loved Mytho. She'd seen him at his very worst and even then he had been Mytho ... part of Mytho, anyway. But what about her? Was she loved simply because a princess was needed?

_Did_ he love her at all?

Could he?

Rue brushed away the useless thoughts and focused on this suddenly _very_ fascinating cloud.

**· · · · · · · **

Fakir had continued writing the story of this town, as promised, Ahiru ever by his side. The more he went on, the more he understood up how deeply seated Drosselmeyer's instruments had been. Broken remnants of the story still remained, but more importantly, people within the town continued on rhythms and patterns of folklore. Sometimes these would get out of control now the town no longer existed within the story.

He did his best to steer everything in a safe direction and he had good success. In the end, he had allowed some of the smaller magic to remain .... maybe just because Ahiru seemed to love it.

If he was in a bad mood, he would write about Femio and his newfound girlfriend, Lillie. There was just something about Femio dramatically posing with his arms to the heavens and begging to be smitten by lightning for imaginary yet relentlessly melodramatic sins ... whenever he wrote about them he was never sure whether he was creating disaster or averting something worse.

So, when Lillie came stampeding past the restaurant, seated on a bull with a herd in tow, he was suitably worried. Though, not as much as Hans, who fancied a full fledged disaster and jumped out of his chair in panic.

"Don't worry about that." said Autor, who had invited himself. "Happens all the time."

"Really?" Hans asked nervously. That certainly hadn't looked normal to him. But then again, there was an oversized duckling with blue eyes sitting on this table. A duckling who had still not grown up over the course of the last few years, to be specific.

Seeing Rätsel and the townsfolk just as calm as the strange boy who had demanded to be present, he sat down again.

"So, Fakir, what do you intend to do about this new story of yours?" Rätsel asked, worrying little for what her husband might think. Autor immediately perked up. Fakir had flat out refused to let him read Rue's messages, but that did not deter Autor.

"I'll just see where it goes." Fakir said, unsure of how much he could discuss in front of Hans. As far as he knew, Rätsel had told her husband once about his powers, but he hadn't taken it serious.

"Is that enough?"

"Off course it is." Fakir grumpily said while planting his fork in a final potato.

"She is your muse, isn't she?" She nodded at Ahiru. "How is she doing?"

"Fine."

"I mean, what about her and the story? Did it occur to you what it might mean to her, if there would be a new story?"

Off course he had considered it. To see her dance again .... but no, the story had ended, he wanted no more suffering. Ahiru would doubtlessly sacrifice what little she had left for Mytho and Rue, while he was quite certain he still did not have the power to truly steer the story.

"It wouldn't work." he simply answered.

"Have you tried?"

"I'm not going to experiment with things I know I can't handle!" he snapped.

Rätsel just smiled. "If you doubt your power, perhaps you should go into the story. Isn't it so that you and Duck could effect a miracle? Perhaps you should try that angle, work from there."

"Oh, I see, author avatars." Hans said, hopelessly lost on the subject. "We are talking about self-inserts, right?"

Fakir thought about it. The first time since the death of his parents that he had effectively used his powers, he had played an active role in the story itself by calling Ahiru forth. Rätsel had a point.

When he didn't reply, the woman continued : "There is the author and there is the audience and in between them, the manuscript exists. But the story itself only exists in their minds. Your stories, Fakir, they exist at a much more complicated level. But in the end they are still stories and like love, stories need honesty on behalf of both parties."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What I see should be roughly similar to what you see." she said with a mysterious glint in her eyes.

Autor had been watching the two talk back and forth, a mischievous grin spread across his face as it went on.

"Misses Riddle, you are _The Call_." Autor said.

"Am I?"

"You're the one who makes it known a mission is at hand. You may not know it yourself, but that is your role in the story."

"And this I suppose is refusal of the call?" She nodded at Fakir.

"Calls cannot be refused." Fakir said with clear irritation. The potato has turned to mush, as had his hopes this conversation would not be taking place.

"So you acknowledge you are in the story already?" Autor's smirk had reached its maximum at this point, and was about to overboil into a mad grin. "I say we both go into the story!"

"Wait, what?"

"We are already part of the story, Fakir! You can't escape it! Let's go now!" He clutched the table as he leaned closer to Fakir, which wasn't as convincingly intimidating as he fancied.

Hans sighed. It was often said that true art is incomprehensible, and artists likewise are not ordinary people. This all was probably some elaborate, stream of consciousness type of evoking muses.

There was a blue eyed duckling on the table, curiously looking around as if she understood everything. She now stood up, walking to the troubled young man with the long hair, and tapped him on the arm very deliberately. Said young man looked back into the duck's eyes, weary and strangely tired. Quite the contrast to the overly excited stranger who had insisted on joining them and was now ranting about the necessity of entering the story.

A dead point in the conversation seemed to have been reached. Perhaps not the best time to take the word, but ....

"So, this story you're talking about ..... what kind of a villain does it have?" Hans asked.

"Hm?" Fakir looked up.

"Or is it no person? Every story has an enemy force, but it's not always a person, right?"

Horror on Fakir's face. Amusement on Autor's.

"I've been trying to tell you for the past minute we should hurry, Fakir." Autor reminded. "And now that it's been said in the story, you can count on it happening."

Fakir knocked over his chair as he jumped up, grabbed Ahiru and ran back to his house.

"Excuse me, I need to go pack." Autor said to the couple and off he was too.

Rätsel's smile had disappeared for a moment, but soon it returned.

"Darling, I'm sorry, but what was that all about?" Hans asked.

"I just needed to set my little brother in the right direction."

**· · · · · · · **

What sort of a story was this, when they did not even know the goal? They sought a Happily Ever After, but a story needs a path to lead to it. The challenge had been issued, a call answered. For as far as a four year delay could be considered _The Call_. Usually around this part of a story, there would be a mysterious old hag or a helpful forest animal to hint them into the right way on their dark road. Instead, they had sunny weather and bird songs under a lovely painted sky.

Mytho had been read stories, off course, but he had never absorbed them nor thought about them. Heartless as he was no emotions had been roused in him. Only that vague memory of something, hope, had caused him to ask for the story of Princess Tutu to be repeated again and again. But Mytho knew only one story, his own. Rue had read and thought about many stories, often scoffing at the whimsical princesses who went to great lengths for their man, if they weren't the ones in need of rescue ..... yet she had wanted exactly that, that perfect fairytale prince.

She couldn't have it. Now, she got the distinct feeling she shouldn't want it either.

Every single kingdom they had visited had turned them down. Yet Mytho remained regal, did not lose his temper and kept hoping.

Hope was good and well but sometimes, Rue figured, it needed a change of direction.

"I think we should go and find some magical item that overcomes famine. That will at least be one problem out of the way." she said.

"But what about the plague in the eastern regions? What about the bandits? Magical food alone will not remedy any of those!"

"We can do that later. Anything better than achieving _nothing_," she called.

"I'm sure we will find a way to solve everything."

"No, you are not sure! You expect to find an overflowing kingdom and all will be solved in a snap!"

"I do not. I am well aware of the work it will require."

"Then try something else because _this _whole approach is _not working_."

"Magical resolutions to famines only come within fairytales." A bitter edge crept in his story. "Drosselmeyer's stories are not fairytales, because they lack a happy ending. It would be useless to find it."

Oh, she understood. Mytho actually would like that type of perfect ending. That was what he really was after. It was so .... so infuriating.

"Enough! Swans, land the carriage!" she demanded.

Baffled, Mytho did not object. They were currently crossing a late summer forest, the swans did not immediately find a clearing to set down, but they finally landed in a charming meadow with chirping birds and sweet flowers. Rue storm out and trampled several of those sweet little flowers to mush.

Mytho calmly stepped out as well and walked to Rue, whose back was now turned towards him. He reached for her shoulder, intent to ask what exactly was on her mind. But she turned around abruptly and looked sharply into his golden eyes.

"I've had it! Don't you realize we won't find a fairytale ending by looking for help in other fairytales? You have to accept we're not working to a perfect fairytale ending, we're only trying to improve things a little for our kingdom."

"Can't you see I'm trying to do exactly that?" he said with a restrained voice. "Rue, tell me what your problem really is?"

"_My_ problem? No, it's _not _me. It's you. That's why it took you four years to finally even try this, but you still don't want it to really see it. We will never be the perfect couple, nor will our kingdom be perfect. And in my opinion, the others aren't either. I say let those other fairytales be, we'll rebuild our kingdom from scratch and we'll be better than them."

A shrill echo from years ago reflected into the prince's mind, the time when Mytho had told Rue that the Raven's Blood was still in both of them. Mytho just sighed, his shoulders hung. His princely pride was harmed, it told him to turn around and continue his royal mission. But his curiosity and affection prompted one last question.

"What do you want from me, Rue?"

She didn't look at him now, didn't say it for she did not want to hear it herself.

_I want you to live like a human who is a prince, not a fairytale prince who happens to be in a human body_.

But what right did she have to ask for that?

The forest became silent for an entirely different reason, but the moment nonetheless was eerily appropriate. Still, the meadow was bright and happy, and for some reason the weather did not adjust itself to fit the atmosphere for the conversation, or what was about to come.

They didn't notice until a peculiar, raspy voice drifted through the trees.

"Humans? It is humans!"

"Oh, and here I thought the Raven Brood had returned."

"Those filthy thieves leave their traces anywhere apparently."

"Who cares? Princess and Princesses aren't any better!"

They could not tell how many, but the voices came from all directions. At the same moment, the magical carriage vanished into thin air. The swans were loose and did not obey as Mytho called them to stay. In alarm they looked around. Who had the power to dismiss Mytho' magic?

"Rue, stay close." Mytho said. He reached down, thankful that for reasons of tradition he had his sword strapped to his belt.

"He is going to go all epic hero on us, is he not? We need a plan."

"How about the Stupid Swarm tactic? They'll fall right for it."

"We can hear you, you know." Rue called.

"That's perfectly alright, my lady, you will have little choice but fall for our plan anyway."

Just then a string of howls arose that sent shivers down their spine. The next moment a pack of wolves broke into the meadow, fangs bared and eyes alight.

They didn't need to tell each other anything to know what was to be done. While usually it was bandits they faced, the principle remained the same : Rue sought cover while Mytho engaged in the Heroic Prince With The Shiny Sword act.

When the first wolf fell at Mytho' sword, she took the opening. Dancing through the horde she leaped and dodged snatching jaws. Well, mostly. She got a few scrapes on her arms, but her overly ornate puffy dress took most damage. Once she reached the edge of the clearing she immediately climbed a conveniently low branched tree. In fact, she was certain the tree hadn't been there minutes ago.

Looking back down, she found several wolves desperately trying to remove the white silk from their fangs, but the rest flocked around Mytho.

He could handle them, she knew well enough, but that never eased her mind. Another side of her was miffed though, that once again she could do nothing.

No wait, something was different here.

They were herding him towards the trees. Why would they? They really did have a plan.

To the trees ....

A nervousness she had not experienced in a long time took hold of her, her heart decreased beat to a steady yet frightening thump. The pulse of her blood started to become synchronous to the cries of distant ravens.

It was this forest. The very nature around them was their enemy. Taking the smallest of risks, she evoked the eyes of a raven and looked around ..... all but the tree she was seated in would serve the wolves. The green meadow melted away and she could see a forest of black trees drenched in blood, a forest that belonged to them.

Her breath stopped, but not for long. She pushed back the raven in her veins till it was only blood again and called out :

"Mytho, come here! Don't approach the other trees!"

He heard, but he was at the other end of the clearing and the wolves refused to let him pass.

"Fakir, I strongly suspect you put this tree here so I'm sure you can do something else." she whispered as she started to climb down.

At that moment,one of the branches broke off, just when she reached the ground. It perfectly fell into her hand, creating her a weapon. Without any hesitation, she ran up to the wolf pack and wacked the nearest head. Kill she could not, but the branch seemed to have some over the top ability to knock out wolves when applied to the skull.

The moment Mytho reached her she grabbed his arm and pulled him to Fakir's tree, all the while warding off wolves on one side, Mytho dealing with the other side. Once at the tree, they quickly climbed and sat down as high and well as they could.

The wolves in the meadow all fell quiet, they neither growled nor threatened their escaped targets.

Instead, some of them approached the wounded and cared for them, others gathered at the deceased. While Rue remembered what the forest as seen through Raven eyes, Mytho saw through the eyes of the prince who loved everyone. Guilt tainted his face when he saw the wolves respectful sorrow of their fallen brethren. They were no lifeless bodies such as the Raven Brood, but beings with a true heart.

"Why did you attack us?" he called out, desperate for a reason for what he had to do.

Some of the wolves looked up, but none spoke. They seemed to wait for something, and long this wait did not last.

_Now _the weather changed. Mist drew up from the North rapidly and the greenery turned sea gray. Haunting chants and howls accompanied the mist, the trees moved their branches yet there was no wind to stir them.

"Where are we?" Mytho wondered.

"Hold that though for a moment, you'll have a wonderfully dramatic answer soon!" said a brown wolf. "Our leader just has a little problem with timing."

"Why can't you answer it?" Rue wanted to know.

"The rules of drama forbid it." the wolf answered.

Nearly a minute passed, which didn't give the impression to last long due to Rue trying to explain Mytho why she knew the forest was enchanted, without telling him she had used the Raven's blood for this. In fact, someone had to say a distinct _'ahem' _to catch their attention.

Here now stood an impressive giant of a wolf, black furred with tiny hints of silver in it that gave him an eerie aura, for there was no distinct source of light. His eyes shone silver, either glazed or alight they could not tell.

So the prince and princess beheld from their awkward position in the tree what likely was their new arch nemesis.

Their rational side gave many warnings, for they were facing a sapient predator with great magical power, yet Rue's awareness of the story also said another thing : _haven't we done this before?_

"You are the Big Bad Wolf." she stated flatly.

"One of them, or maybe they are all one." He spoke with a strangely high whisper, revealing a triple row of fangs as he did so. "Distance's visitors who smell of Raven Blood yet wear the guise of humans .... a rarity to find in the emptiness of the new legends."

"We mean no harm! If we had not been attacked, we would have left in peace!" Mytho called.

"Honestly?" the Wolf asked curiously like a child. Raising his snout, he seemed to test the air.

"I cannot tell with the Raven in their Blood. But the Raven, he is dead, such old blood. How fortunate." He left Mytho' statement unanswered and turned to his pack.

"These will do, do very well. They would fear them, and nobody would smell."

The nearest wolf reflected his grin. "And they simply fell into our forest, how convenient."

Rue crossed her arms while Mytho's hands convulsively clutched the handle of his sword.

"It seems we're going to have to fight off a completely random Evil that has nothing to do with our quest. No, it just stepped up and started doing evil for no adequately explained reason." Rue whispered. This reminded her too much of Drosselmeyer's preferred writing style. Ravens were evil simply because he said so, but Drosselmeyer himself had been anything like that .... no, the truth made him all the more frightening. That she did not want to consider.

**· · · · · · · **


	3. The Big Bad Wolf

**· · · · · · · **

**· Chapter III · H****aut Der Große Böse Wolf ·**

**· · · · · · · **

_Once upon a time, there was a wolf who wore the skin of a sheep, hoping to get close to his favorite prey. But as he wandered along with the herd and waited for the best chance to strike, another wolf approached and killed him. So the deceptive wolf met his end and was eaten. But did anyone wonder, how did it come that the other wolf never noticed he was eating one of his own kind?_

**· · · · · · · **

Rue woke to a cold, dirty floor. This was quite wrong, since she didn't remember going to sleep, being knocked out or experiencing anything that would explain how she lost consciousness in the first place. A shiver ran over her skin when she moved, her gown had become cold and damp. Looking around, she saw a network of branches around her ... no, roots. She was trapped in the middle of a cave full of dripstone and flowstone, and not too far away another cage like hers with Mytho hunched in it.

"Prince!"

Mytho looked up and to her shock, he was in quite a bad condition. He did not bleed like humans did, but she had learned to recognize the subtler signs of detriment that appeared on him, it was in the tears of his clothing, the scrapes on his face and the posture of his hands. Only there were the hints of blood.

"Rue ... are you alright?" he said, strangely staring past her.

"I am. What happened? How did we get here?"

"You just fell over. One of the wolves caught you before you hit the ground and took off with you. I followed, but was captured myself. I failed ... I can't even get out of here. They took the sword and ... with my hands alone ... " He looked at his bloodied fingers, appearing terribly vulnerable in a way only Mytho could achieve.

"You need to tie those up."

Surprised, he looked up, but didn't make actual eye contact. "Rue, you can see here?"

"Yes, ... can't you?"

"I see a few outlines over there, there is light from over there. But around me is only darkness and of you I see nothing."

The darkness as a solid veil had never been something Rue had been able to perceive, and her eyes were still red. A gift she retained from her time as Princess Krähe, but it wasn't enough. As Krähe she could have just teleported out, but she was Rue. A version of Rue who could see her prince in gray and red fields, and the heart beating in his chest.

She would not allow herself to dwell on what was wrong with her, so she got up and tried whether she could damage the roots that imprisoned her. It turned out quickly to be useless. Even if she managed to tear off just a tiny bit of root, it immediately regrew. Rue kept going beyond the point of realizing futility, simply because she was angry.

"Rue, please, stop. I have already tried that. It did not work."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"I'm certain that sooner or later, we will find a way out," he said with a warm smile. _After all, we've been through worse, haven't we?_

Rue sat down and pulled up her knees. For a long time, only the darkness was their companion. Sometimes Mytho would talk to her and assure her everything was fine. It did nothing to ease her anxiety, but he couldn't see that.

"Stupid crane ..." echoed a familiar, child-like voice after an unknown amount of time, startled the two of them. Even though the voice was nothing like that of the Raven, the situation was very similar : darkness and beasts and fairytales, with them as the victim in the middle. That Rue had been one of the beasts didn't help.

Soon the Wolf arrived, accompanied by his pack of much smaller beasts. Well, small compared to him, for wolves they were quite large and easily seen as they moved through the maze of stone formations. Unlike the old hag that accompanied them — a woman who fit the classifications for stereotype fairytale witch right down to the wart on the nose — who only emerged till she stood at the edge of a large flat stone.

"Excuse us for the wait, our beloved sorceress had experienced a delay," the Wolf said casually as he sat down beside her. His pack flocked out around him and the lot of them pulled apart the roots with their noses. Uneven round doors opened at their touch, Rue couldn't get out quick enough.

Mytho however carefully reached out, blind as he was. His hand found the fur of one of the wolves, who then led him to stand aside of Rue. She quickly took his hand and he smiled at her touch. They stood opposite of the Wolf and Rue could see the fine details of his teeth-filled jaws. She could not help but see something akin to the Raven, though he was much smaller and quite different in personality. His presence was much the same, shadow of fur merging into shadow of land.

"State what you want of us!" Mytho commanded.

The Wolf tilted his head, curious again. "You do not know, heroic prince? I am a monster. Surely I want to do evil. Is that not enough?"

"You don't have to be, you —" Mytho said, and Rue feared he might actually be serious.

"Prince, he is _mocking _you. You cannot redeem anyone that easily," Rue said sharply, and then to the Wolf, "Now, you can at least tell us why you brought us here, Big Badly Written Wolf."

The Wolf feigned thinking it over, then said, "Don't feel like it, this scene doesn't feel right yet. I shall say this though. We can kill you at any time we want, your magic is dead here. These are the shadows, and your sword is ours now. Now kneel."

"What for?" Rue demanded.

"For your blood," the Wolf said. At the point, two wolves approached with earthen bowls in their jaws. They set them before the royal couples, then quickly retreated.

"This will hurt, obviously. Kneel."

"Do cooperate, lest we have to harm you beyond this," the wolfess added.

"Don't provoke them further, Rue, as long as we are alive there is hope." Mytho scrolled up a sleeve and knelt down, princely as ever, to offer his arm to the fangs. He winced as the fangs penetrated his arm, but he was a story character still, bleeding only for need of symbolism. They hesitated before Rue, she was certain she saw fear in their pose.

"She's not a raven princess anymore," the Wolf howled upon seeing their hesitation. "She is a Princess Of Nothing!"

"Princess of Nothing!" the pack echoed, though some didn't seem convinced.

"And you will become the Prince Of Nothing! You will finally match!" the Wolf told Mytho.

One of the wolves ran up to Rue and jumped against her back, she fell forward. Mytho's injured arm reached out to catch her fall on instinct. Right now this made her all the more furious, for it reminded her of his ever-caring heart. He should have had a happy ending long ago, and now this!

"Rue, please be strong. Right now I cannot do anything, but I promise I will get us out of here."

"I will, Prince," she muttered as she held up her arm, but her heart was elsewhere. The teeth didn't go deep, it was the barest necessary to draw their blood. But she was Rue, and she bled like a human. The thin red drops reminded her of both that and her inhumanity, for she could see them in this darkness.

"Allow me to provide some exposition about werewolves," said the witch as she approached to pick up the bowls. "The wolf form is a duplicate of the wolf that bit the human, with variation only occurring if two werewolves mate. But what if a wolf is infected by a werewolf? What human form does it take? That of the human who bit them. Now you dears already are magical hybrids. I will only substitute the Raven for the Wolf blood, and ..." Her voice trailed off as she stumbled away, to a cauldron in the far end of the hall. There she performed a gibberish magic ritual, the occasional flash casting some light and sharp shadow through the cave.

She returned after a long time, and the Wolf impatiently asked, "Was all that necessary?"

"I have a reputation to uphold, so I need to be flashy. And some was definitely necessary. That Raven's blood is clingy."

"I meant the exposition," he said, irritably.

But the wolfess almost grinned as the two bowls were set on the ground. "Oh, let the lady have her witch ways, as we have our wolf ways." She stepped forth and dipped her nose in one of the bowls. Before even finishing, a pained rumble started in her throat and once the last drop was gone, she collapsed. Convulsions overcame her while her howl warped into a scream until finally, her form drew together into a lean pale form. So Rue found herself looking in the mirror again, this time surrounded not by red eyed ravens but yellow eyed wolves and one pair of green, belonging to the witch.

The new _Rue_ lay there for a while, panting, whimpering, laughing. Standing up, the Wolf nuzzled her in the back, managing more care than one could expect from such a monster. Rue would have thought it charming, if the woman who raised her head in response hasn't been bearing face. This face breathed a sigh of relief, but otherwise remained without emotion. Beyond that, only one flaw existed in her slightly lighter and much shorter hair.

"How does it feel?" the Wolf asked.

"I suppose it feels human," she said as she probed into the darkness. "I cannot see well in the dark, and my senses are dull. Help me stand." The Wolf raised a paw and with inexperienced hands she grasped his fur. Her legs nearly collapsed under her and she needed to continue leaning on him.

"Unfortunately, it seems we cannot duplicate your magic well enough, Prince and Princess. They will need your clothes," the Wolf said.

"What?" On top of everything, they expected them to strip down? Rue was secretly brewing plans of vengeance, but Mytho just sighed and obeyed. As he took off his clothes, two wolves approached with rags in their mouths. One set was thrown to Mytho, the other dumped before Rue. Disdainfully, Rue put them on. She had never worn rags, but in Mytho's company she sure wasn't going to complain on it, if only not to disgrace him. The wolfess meanwhile had a much more difficult time, not due to hurt pride but due to complete inexperience with the concept of opposable thumbs and only two legs to stand on.

The Wolf ordered Mytho and Rue returned to their cages as another wolf came forth for the potion with Mytho's blood. A similar transformation took place, and here too a perfect image of Mytho appeared. Again the hair was short, but for the image of Mytho it was not much of a change.

"Alright, you intend to replace us, for what purpose?" Rue demanded. For a time her question seemed to be ignored, but she noticed the Wolf become restless. He wanted to answer, she realized, so she tempted him with as much tasteless boasting as she could manage. "Oh well, never mind. It doesn't matter what you do. We're the Heroes, we're going to the win anyway and end up with everything, standing glorious above your defeated self." Here she stopped, sooner than the form dictated. She should have gone on to insult the Big Bad Enemy, but she herself had a past of feeling inferior. She could boast, but would never be _that _tasteless, to call something worthless. And she didn't have to be.

The Wolf slowly turned his head. "You all called it onto yourself. We do this because our kind doesn't deserve this life!" Now his voice was the deep, threatening tone expected from evil overlords, and this voice did more. Blood dripped out of the Wolf's mouth, he had bitten his tongue.

"I shall take the Evil Motive speech from here, if you please?" said the wolfess as she paused her struggle with the dress. "If we must have one after all ..."

"Go ahead, I'm going to drink something. Get the ropes!" the Wolf said, ripping even more of his tongue in the process. He walked off with a few subordinates in tow.

"Please excuse our leader, he does try his best to live up to the name of Big Bad Enemy. You will have to take satisfaction with my lesser delivery," the wolfess said dryly. "We travel the outskirts of fairytale kingdoms, scavenging for food. We cannot go into rich lands when a righteous ruler is on the throne. But your kingdom, we have heard, it's not Perfect yet. It's still _natural_. We can go there and live. The only hindrance is that it is surrounded by many Perfect kingdoms, and we cannot pass into it."

"You know an awful lot about us," Rue remarked.

"Maybe we've been following you. Maybe we have spies."

"This forest is embedded with your magic. Do you do that with every chance forest you pass through? Seems like an awful waste of time, especially since you wouldn't know where we would land," Rue was quick to point out.

"Maybe it just happens where ever we go?"

"I'm fairly sure it doesn't. There would have been legends about your plague." Here Rue paused, a moment caught in a bitter memory, then she said, "A man named Drosselmeyer once gave me a two hundred year old lake. You just get a Black Forest out of nowhere. I'm not at ease with the similarities."

In the distance, the Wolf laughed as if he had heard her claim. Rue almost believed she heard him mock, "She sees, she sees, but not clear enough!" But the wolfess before her didn't even pay attention to Rue anymore. Only now had she managed to pull on the gown, and leaning on one of the other wolves she went to the false _Mytho_, to help him with his own clothes. The true Rue and Mytho could only wait from this point forth.

"Do not worry for your kingdom. We shall give them exactly what they want!" the false _Rue _called once they finally left.

**· · · · · · ·**

The dimly lit chamber was the same in which Fakir once had writen the ending of _Der Prinz Und Der Räbe_. Here, the duck, the failed knight and the character without destiny read along helplessly.

"There was only an abstract cause of conflict, but now they have begun another story, a solid enemy found them. That's how fairytales work, nobody ever struggles against political intrigue, disasters or themselves, they struggle against the darkness and the monsters that cause those things," Autor said, peering over Fakir's shoulder. "They are characters from one of Drosselmeyer's stories after all."

Fakir only grumbled. "Dammit. Is he doing this?"

"Rue off course has a good point about this being all too coincidental," Autor said. "But this isn't Drosselmeyer's style. The Raven was evil for no reason, these wolves have a goal. Then again, it might just play right into Drosselmeyer's beloved tragedy, which might m—"

"Could you be quiet, please?" Fakir's hand lingered at the end of a chapter, wondering what he could do to change the story. Obviously, the disguised wolves would go to the kingdom and be able to deceive the people at least for some time. No ruses are ever raised to be broken before their effect is played, even if he tried to write it so the story would sway his hand to the more logical flow. He met Ahiru's blue eye as she looked over her shoulder, and his hands seemed to move on his own :

_Far away, a duck learned of the distress of the prince and princess and was determined to aid them, and she turned to her friend ..._

Ahiru was still part of the story and Rätsel was probably right. But his pen faltered for a moment before he set it down again.

"Please write," said Duck, unheard by ears but understood by the writer.

"This time I may hope you come up with something more sophisticated than a branch, Fakir," Autor said as he pushed his glasses a little further up his nose. "Artistic license only goes so far."

"Could you _please be quiet_?" Fakir said again.

"My my," said the voice of the man who was supposed to have died. "It looks like you're quite stuck again, aren't you?"

Fakir and Ahiru jerked up, while Autor blinked only. Then he realized what went on, recalling Fakir's descriptions.

"Drosselmeyer!" he said with delight. Frantically he looked around, hoping for an apparition. He found it in the form of a strange clock that opened. Out stepped a caricature that took Autor aback for a moment. The Drosselmeyer who had been depicted in old images had been a regular man, bearded and worn down, but human. Yet this, this creature was almost like a animated nutcracker. Possibly the most disturbing aspect was how the sides of his eyeballs stuck beyond of his face.

"The laws of biology are so pointless when you're defying time," Drosselmeyer said as he introduced Autor to his Cheshire Cat grin. But that was all the attention he gave Autor before he turned to Fakir. The failed knight promptly stood up, taking a stance partially before Ahiru as if that could change anything.

"It seems you could use some help," Drosselmeyer said. "I can get you into the story."

"Help? You'd lead us to another tragedy!"

"I need to do nothing for _that_. Oh no, I just want to make things more interesting. What do you say? You have defied me despite my intentions before, why are you afraid of taking the chance now?"

"Because Fakir decided to be the reluctant hero for some reason. But I'm ready for any challenge you might lay onto me!" Autor declared as he stepped in Drosselmeyer's line of sight. "Let me do something!"

Drosselmeyer chuckled and said, "So eager to prove your worth, are you? Or is it for the princess too? I wonder what _really _drives you."

Much to his own surprise, Autor said out loud what he had promised to never say where Fakir could hear, "I need a purpose." It was half the truth. "You let me see you, there must be a meaning to it!"

"Maybe I was just hoping you'd work on Fakir's guilt in case he declines. After all, you're barely connected to my bloodline, what use could I have for you?" One might have fired a gun at Autor's chest just as well, or handed him one after the insult.

"Well, you two could just stay and sit here all _uselessly_, or you get let me help," Drosselmeyer told Fakir and Ahiru.

"I _will _do something, but without your help," Fakir said. Yet now, Ahiru raised a loud quacking. She was wordless now that Fakir's hand had strayed from paper, but she made her case clear enough.

"See? Even little Duck agrees. The story will go on with or without you, cause you're not in it. But well, be stubborn if you must. Who knows, it might turn out interesting, when you arrive too late to change anything. In the meantime ... " He opened his hand and let four rape blossoms flutter to the ground.

"Each of these will give Duck the ability to speak until she quacks." He gave no chance for reply, ignored Autor's please and vanished into the clock while grinning madly. Time returned in his wake. Autor slumped against a wall, Fakir set straight his chair and returned to the paper. Ahiru however had jumped onto the ground and walked to the blossoms. After inspecting them, she looked over her shoulder again. Fakir set quill to paper.

_"So how do we get these to work?" asked the duck._

**· · · · · · · **

The ministers were holed up in their council chamber, muttering and planning and writing on papers that changed nothing. Outside the sun was shining blindingly fierce and despite the shadow of their hall they were burdened under the heat. A torturous monotone was in their slow actions and the cycle they played part it, and to them it seemed like any might snap soon, but none dared to be the first.

Their wait for someone else's falter was interrupted when the door opened, and there stood their Prince : brilliant as the sun of a high window fell on him, yet somehow ... smudged. Literary. His clothes seemed to be endured the dust roads and the fields, and his hands were harsh. Only his face was the serenity it ought to be, about a month in the future.

"Prince Siegfried, you have returned already?"

He nodded curtly as he stepped in and sat down on a small throne, meant to oversee the private discussions.

"I bear grim news. Any kingdom we visited has refused to help us. Fear of the Raven's blood holds them back, they say, but do we not all know those are mere excuses? They left this kingdom to its own devices before they even knew what the outcome of our story would be. We saw no need to continue searching for help, so we have returned."

To hear their purehearted Prince speak so resentfully, hopelessly, it was enough to snap one minister. "We're never to escape this suffering! Our people will die out!" The man threw his papers in the air and stood up with wide, despairing eyes. _Mytho_ raised a hand before his mouth to hide laughter. The dramatic gesture of humans, particularly story characters, had always been one of his sources of amusement. That was why he'd been elected for this task exactly because he had an interest in humans and their mannerism, but when he himself was supposed to imitate them it turned out to be a lot more difficult.

Seeing his somewhat trembling form and half hidden expression, another minister asked, "Prince Siegfried, are you feeling unwell?"

_Rue_ saved him from the awkward moment.

"We will not die out." The princess entered the hall, and they saw her in the same disheveled state as their prince. The white gown seemed old and where once long hair had fallen past the shoulders, only a few curls barely until below the ears remained. Yet she too sported the same serene expression, quite the more out of character it now seemed.

"We had several unpleasant encounters," _Siegfried _explained in responses to their confused gazes. "A few insolent peasant even threw rotten food at my princess, who had to cut her locks to get rid of the stench in lack of soap. Princess, did you not wish to refresh first?"

She shook her head. "I may have said that once we left from the graves of our swans, but now I have trekked through our dying lands, I do not think we should waste any more time. Ministers, would one of you be kind enough to open the doors to the balcony? We will address the nation now. Let them see us like this, as one of them."

For a moment, the ministers thought they spied a struggle in the stares of the prince and princess, but then _Siegfried_ agreed. When the royal couple stepped onto the balcony, a set of ravens that had perched there flew off, crowing angrily at the royal couple. The doves followed them quietly. This too the ministers took quiet notice of.

"My people!" Siegfried called out. Down below was a market, as typical to a fairytale palace that needed no walls to keep it from enemy invasions. The people looked up and saw their Prince, their high hope, with his princess at his side.

"I have changed my goals," _Siegfried _announced. "We will find our own resources. Down to the south is a forest that holds no ruler. We will go there and brings it magic to our land, it's beasts to our plates and its water to our wells."

"But that forest is wild and unholy! How could any good come from it?"

"How could any good come from waiting for our deaths? The kingdoms that turn their backs on us thrive on a charade," _Rue_ called. "The Raven blood ceased to be the moment the Raven died. Now let is cast off the chains of that story! We don't need their false happiness!"

"My fair princess speaks true words. Come, let all brave men step forth and we will march to the forests! If the other kingdoms disagree, so let them! My sword is mighty enough to hold them away, would they oppose us! For that is my duty as your Prince and soon to be King! You are my people and I will take care of you!"

Those that disagreed were soon overpowered by the cries of the desperate. The hungry and ill heard what they wanted to hear and cheered for the promise he brought. Nobody wondered why the light was still painful.

**· · · · · · ·**


End file.
